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Chapter 230 — It's All My Fault!!
Darren finished examining his new reward.
Once the brief surprise wore off, he looked around.
No portraits.
No students.
Not even a ghost drifting nearby.
Nearly Headless Nick—who had followed his voice earlier—was now petrified on the floor.
No one knew Darren was here.
No, no, no… I should've gone straight to Dumbledore after hearing that voice. How could I be this careless?
There had to be a way to spread the news quickly.
A trickster.
A loud trickster.
A trickster who lived to cause chaos.
Peeves.
Yes! Perfect!
If Peeves heard that Darren had "killed" someone, the entire castle would know within minutes.
Then, when Justin woke up and cleared his name, he'd gain a huge Father Value bonus.
Lately, he hadn't been able to farm Father Value at all.
This was an opportunity.
"Peeves! Come here!"
Darren waved his wand.
Peeves zoomed around the corner instantly, grinning—only for Darren to stun him mid-shriek.
Darren then slipped a new memory into Peeves's head:
He had just arrived.
He found Darren collapsed on the ground.
And both Nick and Justin petrified beside him.
No other details.
Darren revived him.
Peeves shot upright—
"AAAAAAH! MURDER! POTTER'S KILLED—KILLED—THE POTTER CUB HAS KILLED AGAIN! SOMEONE DIED—DIED—DIEEEED!"
His screech echoed through every corridor.
Within seconds, the entire castle was in an uproar.
Footsteps thundered from every direction.
Darren remained on the floor, curled in on himself, trembling—anxiety, guilt, pain all written across his face.
"Darren? Darren! Are you okay?!"
Harry was the first to reach him.
He knelt and tried to help Darren up—
Only to jerk his hand back in fear.
Darren's skin was ice-cold.
His lips were pale.
His eyes unfocused.
"Darren…?"
But Darren didn't respond.
He didn't even seem to hear him.
Gasps echoed behind them.
"Petrified! Oh Merlin—who did this?!"
A girl screamed when she saw Justin and Nick.
Nearly Headless Nick's ghostly form was now pitch-black, rigid, floating inches above the floor, his eyes wide with frozen terror.
Behind him, Justin lay petrified, limbs locked, his own eyes still staring in horror.
Both had clearly been looking directly at Darren when it happened.
"It's Potter! Potter did it—he must have!"
Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff shouted, pointing with a trembling hand.
"Justin said bad things about him this morning—and now he's petrified here! Oh—oh my God!"
Harry whipped around, fury exploding in his chest.
He glanced at Darren.
Darren heard Ernie's accusation.
His eyes shimmered red, filling with grief and panic.
Harry snapped.
"You say one more thing—ONE MORE—and I'll—!"
"Oh, you think you can protect him?!" Ernie shrieked.
"Darren Porter is a murderer! I'll tell the professors myself—they'll drag his wand and teeth out! Maybe he faked being captured by Death Eaters too!"
Harry's wand flew up.
"TARANTELLEGRÁF!"
Ernie immediately broke into a wild, ridiculous dance, flailing desperately.
"I SAID—DON'T YOU DARE SLANDER HIM AGAIN! HE WOULD NEVER DO THIS!"
"Oolong out of the hole!"
Malfoy's shout rang through the corridor.
Harry spun around just in time to see a snake burst from Malfoy's wand.
It slithered forward—straight toward Ernie.
"WAIT!"
Harry yelled instinctively.
If the snake bit Ernie, everyone would blame Darren again.
But the moment the words left Harry's mouth, his stomach dropped.
Because the entire crowd stared at him with horrified faces.
"What—?"
"Get back!" Darren suddenly grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him away from the snake.
His voice trembled with panic.
Harry blinked down—and saw the snake slithering toward him.
Darren raised his wand, shaking.
The snake vanished instantly.
But the damage was done.
Whispers rippled around them.
Shock.
Fear.
Accusations.
Only the Slytherins stayed close.
Some of them actually looked… proud? Envious?
Harry didn't understand what was happening.
But Snape arrived at that moment, sweeping through the crowd—his expression twisted, not with mockery, but with pain and horror.
Pain? For Darren?
Before Harry could speak, Dumbledore appeared behind Snape.
"Not here," Dumbledore said firmly.
"Minerva, take Nick and Justin to the hospital wing.
Darren, Severus—come with me."
"Headmaster—I want to go too—!" Harry begged.
"No, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "You need rest."
Harry could do nothing as Darren was led away.
—
Inside Dumbledore's office, the door shut behind them.
"Darren," Dumbledore said, voice low and grave, "tell me exactly what happened."
Darren's eyes filled instantly.
His voice cracked.
"I—I heard that animal again. The same one from last time. I chased the sound—and I found it near the Slytherin corridor. Justin was there. It was going to kill him. So I—I covered his eyes and tried to block it—"
He choked, pressing a trembling hand over his mouth.
"But this time… it was stronger… so much stronger. I couldn't hold on. I fell. And when I got up—Justin was already petrified. And Nick—Nick must've heard me shouting and came to help, and now he—he—"
He broke off, voice shaking violently.
"It's all my fault. If I'd just held on a little longer—if I'd been stronger—they wouldn't—wouldn't—Nick—Justin—"
His shoulders shook.
Snape stared at him—at the cold sweat soaking his robes—and fury sparked in his eyes.
The boy nearly died again.
And he still blames himself?!
"You are not at fault," Snape said sharply, fighting to keep his voice level.
"You did everything you could."
"Yes, Darren," Dumbledore agreed, expression grave.
"If you had held on longer, you likely would've died. It isn't your failure. The creature is getting stronger."
He inhaled, troubled.
"Go back to your dormitory now. And be careful. Both of you."
Snape opened his mouth as if to protest—but Darren stood shakily and bowed his head.
"Yes… Headmaster…"
And with that, he left.
Broken.
Shaking.
Certain that everything—absolutely everything—was his fault.
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